


Edward the Star Wars Engine and His New Friends

by Ekevka



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends
Genre: Asexual!Edward (Thomas the Tank Engine), Darth Vader still hates sand even if he is a steam engine, Gen, Palpatine is in charge so beware, Set during Episode: s21e13 A Shed for Edward, Thomas the Tank Engine AU, Wilhuff Tarkin is Joseph Stalin (Russian locomotive class IS), as in the imperials are engines but Edward is from his own canon and just got lost, liberal use of Star Wars toponyms, mentions of characters being hurt or possibly even tortured offscreen, several other imperials or engines are basically namedropped, this was honestly supposed to be crack but angst prevailed (sorry not sorry), you can feel sorry for him and his crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22557805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ekevka/pseuds/Ekevka
Summary: Don't sleep and drive, kids, even if it is only your engine that's sleeping. And check whether you've arrived where you intended...
Relationships: Edward (Thomas the Tank Engine) & Orson Krennic & Wilhuff Tarkin, Edward and his crew (Thomas the Tank Engine), Orson Krennic/Wilhuff Tarkin, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto (Implied)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	Edward the Star Wars Engine and His New Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags. The implications are there, but nothing graphic, I think?  
> Special thanks to saphsaq, who kindly betaed this thing - all the remaining mistakes are my own.

“Edward! EDWARD!”  


“Oh,” Edward shuddered awake, realising that he managed to fall asleep while still driving. No wonder Sand was worried! “Alright, alright, I can hear you perfectly fine,” he tried to calm down his driver only to yawn rather loudly in the end.  


"Of course you can,” Sand patted the side of Edward’s cab. “We do need to find a proper sleeping place. The forecast promised rain, and I don’t think you need any more problems!”  


“Is there really no place at Tidmouth?” Edward asked just to say something. His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier, and a chance of rain was nothing compared to the possibility of a restful sleep in a siding.  


“No,” answered Sand, but the muffled conversation with the fireman suggested that another opinion might be forthcoming.  


"On the other hand, we might as well go there," finally shouted Sand in that tone of voice that meant he was preparing "I told you so" even now. "At least they'll have tarpaulin to cover you".  


Edward was too tired to even feel anything.

***

"Well, I'll go ask after that tarpaulin," Heaver at least sounded sorry.  


Edward looked at the fully taken shed and couldn't believe his eyes. He was sleepy, yes, but why would the shed not only be repaired, but have all seven engines inside? Some of them did look unfamiliar... oh, screw that, they all did! But they had no right to take his rightful place!  


"Excuse me," he started before the fireman could go anywhere, since they might have to get out of here quite fast. "Do you mind if I stay the night with you?"  


A couple of engines opened their eyes, but the rest were either too deeply sleeping, or too good at pretending.  


"Where do you see any room, if I may ask? And who are you?" asked the seemingly taller one, his voice a deep baritone. He was in the berth closest to the left... a double, basically, since the exit arc seemed to span two tracks. His companion was one of those who slept, although his snoring had stopped rather too abruptly.  


"My name is Edward, and I am looking for a place to stay the night."  


"There is no spare berth, as you can plainly see, Edward," answered the tall engine, without offering his name in return.  


"I can move to Vanto," suggested another one who had opened his eyes: completely scarlet ones, seemingly even fluorescent.  


Edward thought that he should just shout "Sorry!" as he sped backwards someplace else, but the red-eyed engine was already moving out to change berths.  


"Only if you take the mail train," answered one of the engines on the right side. They all still seemed to be soundly asleep, but now Edward had all the reason to think that none of the engines in front of him were sleeping.  


Well, that made eight of them!  


"Of course, Vanto!" the red-eyed engine turned out to be a dark-coloured tender one, surely not much shorter than Edward himself, so that Vanto engine had to be a tank one.  


Or not: once the engine moved into the rightmost berth the tender did stick out a fair bit, not that anyone seemed to mind.  


Edward carefully moved on the turntable, which seemed to be slightly bigger than the one in Tidmouth.  


"Are you certain we should stay here?" whispered his foreman as Edward was being turned. "We don't seem to be on Sodor anymore!"  


"I want to sleep." Edward didn't want to sound like a petulant child or James (not that there was a lot of difference), but the obviously warm berth was beckoning a bit too hard to resist.  


"We are usually rather quiet," came the muffled voice of the red-eyed engine.  


"Oh, do take a nap, Thrawn!" answered the unseen Vanto in return.  


Edward backed down into the berth and fell asleep almost before he stopped properly.

***

He woke up surprisingly well-rested. A heavy-set and dark tender engine - it would make Henry look like a weakling - was leaving, barely making a sound. One of Edward's impromptu neighbours was complaining:  


"The Force willed him. Would that Force move the morning goods? Of course not!"  


"Do shut up, Krennic!" came the baritone of the tall engine. "Everyone knows Vader hates the sand and those morning goods do have a couple of wagons of it."  


"Of course you are calm, you are not mixed-traffic, Tarkin. You won't have to drag that goods train!"  
"Good morning!" Edward almost yawned, but caught himself in time.  


"Good morning to you too, Edward," Tarkin moved to the turntable next - he was olive-green in the morning light, and looked rather too slim on his tall black wheels, if an engine longer than Gordon could manage that.  


Although Edward half-expected Tarkin to just slightly adjust and move on to whatever station was close, the tall engine in fact turned around so that he faced Edward himself.  


This... was alarming. As was the fact that this Krennic engine - Tarkin's snoring companion, most likely, - moved slightly forward out of his double berth, his impractical white coat of paint gleaming in the morning sun, or that there was no sign of Edward's crew, although they should be around, unusual sleeping quarters and all that.  


A lonely seagull cried above.  


"Can I help you?" Edward finally asked since both other engines seemed to be content just watching him.  
"We have some questions we want to ask," started Tarkin, still standing on the turntable. "Where are you from, for a start?"  


"The island of Sodor," Edward could swear the engines exchanged a glance that meant neither of them knew what or where Sodor was.  


This kind of thing usually happened to Thomas. Did his luck finally move over onto Edward?  


"And where do you think you are now?" continued Tarkin.  


"Not there? Although I was going to Tidmouth," Edward had just realised he didn't remember how he got to those sheds.  


"You are on the island of Coruscant, the Stardust sheds," answered Tarkin, sounding more and more thoughtful. "The closest town is Geonosis, and there is no Tidmouth or Sodor nearby."  


"You can work with us for a couple of days, while the Old Controller figures out a way to get to your island," suggested Krennic.  


"Let me guess, my first train would be this goods one, with sand?"  


"You can help Krennic move that, yes," agreed Tarkin.  


Krennic only frowned.  


"It is just a matter of civility after you allowed me to stay the night. And I trust Krennic knows all about your tracks or wagonry?" prompted Edward. He wasn't usually one to flatter, but Krennic seemed like the engine to get out of freight duty, what with his white paint, and Edward was not taking a goods train alone.  


Not without his crew, anyway. Where were they?

***

Neither Sand, nor Heaver appeared in the time it took to light Edward's fire, so Tarkin generously made his secondary crew go with Edward. They were a bit too rough, but the firewoman - she introduced herself as Rivoche and the taciturn driver as Garoshe, - was marvellous at keeping Edward's steam pressure under control.  


"You are rather calm, compared to Tarkin. He may act cool, but underneath he has quite a temper," explained Krennic as they stood to fill up with water and coal. "Although he does train his crew to be the best. Even those who don't cut it are still better than the majority of others."  


"That's interesting," politely replied Edward, looking around to take in the yard.  


It was both familiar and not. The tracks, the coaches, even the layout was quite similar to Tidmouth - no wonder Edward and his crew had mistaken the place. But the atmosphere was different, quieter, more organised. The trucks were not singing anything at all - they, in fact, were pretty much silent except for an occasional murmur.  


Coaches were more carefree. Several had even cat-called Krennic as he assembled their goods train.  


"You might take the Express coaches to Tarkin while I find all our goods. His train leaves from Platform 1," Krennic called as soon as he realised that Edward had nothing to do.  


Rivoche had to point out those to Edward - there were cream ones like the usual Express, but those, apparently, were for stopping services. The actual local Express ones were gray with red or blue squares to mark the class. They were the least behaved ones, and complained rather loudly about Edward taking them.  


"Let Krennic do it! He has to serve our master!" they shouted in unison, voices ranging all the way from bass to falsetto.  


"He is unavailable! Do move, please," Edward replied, rather flabbergasted that of all things Express coaches would be this loud and obnoxious.  


"Oh, Edward. Nice to see that you are helping," observed Tarkin from his place on a siding.  


"I like working," Edward brought the coaches to a stop and realised that Tarkin actually picked not the siding that would allow him to nap freely, as Gordon was prone to do, but the one that allowed him to see the majority of the yard. The tall engine seemed to focus on Krennic and the way he shunted the trucks into a rather long train. Now Edward understood why Tarkin suggested they both take this goods train - either of them would have had to do two runs to move this many trucks!  


"That's a valuable attitude to have. Are all your Sodor friends that useful?"  


"We strive to be, yes," Edward was never one to drag an engine down, but his friends were sometimes lazy. Not that Tarkin needed to hear that.  


"You must have quite a railway," remarked the tall engine as he backed down on his train.  


"Thank you." Edward wondered whether he'd have the time to watch this Express go, but Krennic's whistle suggested that their train was ready as well.  


The Express went ahead with a loud whistle and not much else from Tarkin. Strange, that - the tall engine did have the voice for shouting the way Gordon was fond of.  


They departed some time after: Krennic in front, as the one who knew the rails and Edward as the second engine, for his paint was less likely to be stained. The white engine was a great worker despite all Edward's misgivings, never slowing, but nor did he rush. Quite a feat, to keep pace with an engine you've just met, yet Krennic managed with nary a word!  


The trucks continued to behave amazingly well. They had, in fact, trembled a bit more than could be explained just by physics of them moving at speed. Usually that required a thoughtful verbal lashing from the right engine, but Krennic was yet to say a word since they've departed Geonosis. Had he had a reputation with trucks? Regardless of the reason, nervous trucks made for a surprisingly well-behaved train, so Edward concentrated on the white tender in front of him, forgetting his worries for a while.

***

The day continued in the same manner: Edward and Krennic shunted trains, sometimes double-heading them to and fro the mainline. While Krennic seemed to imply that it was mostly for his own benefit, Edward believed more and more that the Controller of this railway plainly didn't trust him yet to pull trains on his own. Especially since he was yet to head any trains, even when it was easier than changing places with Krennic.  


And just as well: his regulator was rather sore from the way Garoshe kept gripping it. Edward was almost certain that his temporary crew could inflict much more damage if there were no witnesses such as another engine and his crew.  


"Ok, I think we are done," suddenly Krennic proclaimed as soon as they brought a dynamite train to a station called Alderaan. "Come on, we deserve a wash down."  


Edward followed, although for a moment it felt like his crew would disagree and finally find some train for him to pull alone. But he steamed along behind Krennic, who was much faster now that he was travelling for his pleasure.  


At the wash down Edward realised just how fascinating looking at others' working could be. Krennic had roped even Garoshe into washing him, and positively preened as ten or so humans tended to his white paintwork.  


"He is such an egoist," grumbled Rivoche, who was left alone to wash Edward.  


Given that she basically splashed water on him and called it a day, Edward was not really supporting her opinion. Not vocally, at least - Krennic was too close to not hear Edward, not to mention that gossiping in front of the one you were discussing was Not Proper.  


"Says the one whose engine turned his name into surname for all his crews," answered Krennic, not even deigning to open his eyes.  


"This was a sign of respect!" countered Rivoche, frowning. "And grandfather's old one was too hard for you English-speakers to pronounce!"  


"I wonder just what name Tarkin himself had back then. It’s not like his current is that Russian," Krennic sounded positively wistful, and Edward wished he could back down: the whole conversation just turned a bit too private for the first evening of knowing each other.  


"You are embarrassing the new engine, boss!" laughed one of Krennic's crew, although Edward couldn't even guess whether this was the driver or the fireman.  


"I'm not a 'new' engine," Edward remembered the whole 'adventure' Thomas had a few years back and was quick to correct the human.  


"Yes, Pterro, he is our guest," Krennic opened his eyes and looked curiously at Edward. "While we wait to finish our spa-session, do you have anything to tell about your railway? You've seen ours, surely you have something to compare, or spotted something we do better?"  


"Yours is surely more organised. Outside of that Vader engine refusing to take the morning goods you had no accident," Edward wasn't going to belittle the North Western, but a completely accident-free day was remotely rare.  


"Vader is Old Controller's favourite, out of goods engines. Maybe just an all-time favourite," Krennic frowned, and for a moment his eyes flashed with hatred. But then he smiled so disarmingly that Edward almost thought he dreamed this up.  


"Our Controllers were always fond of Thomas, our number 1. Not overly so, but he did get away with some things that on other railways might be enough for a time-out or even scrapping," Edward said that just to lift Krennic's spirits up, but to be fair on the Mainland the majority of shenanigans everyone was prone to get into on Sodor were more than serious offences.  


"Oh? Pray tell," Krennic slightly moved forward.  


And Edward did. It was incredibly cathartic to tell someone of all the things that did get on his nerves, especially to someone who was as skilled in the art of listening as Krennic. He made all the right noises at the right times, he shushed the humans, who seemed to think that the wash and talk time went on long enough, and most of all - he seemed to understand just what the problem was.

***

"... and you should have seen the sheer relief on the Fat Controller’s face when I brought back the old speakers. I mean, the new ones just needed tuning, but everyone departing Tidmouth managed to do something wrong. Maybe not Gordon, although I'd imagine he can take the Express while asleep," Edward finished.  


Krennic laughed so hard his cheeks were red.  


"I don't think your Controller understood just whom he forced to carry the 'old' PA system to be scrapped, nor did he apologise?" he asked finally.  


"No. But the Fat Controller is..." Edward trailed off, both wanting to explain that his owner was a bit like a foster child, what with him being actually younger than Edward himself, and realising just how creepy that might sound.  


"He means well?" said a familiar voice from behind.  


Both Edward and Krennic slightly wobbled.  


"Tarkin. You do know how to creep up on honest engines, don't you?" Krennic sounded stern, but he was smiling.  


"And you know how to use all the water just on yourself. I guess Edward was the next in line?" Tarkin wooshed, stopping to Edward's right. The tall engine basically glared at humans closest to him until they stopped polishing Krennic and moved to wash him. Tarkin's crew, unlike that of Krennic or Edward, stayed in his cab.  


This close Edward could see that the tall engine was a bit wider than his wheels, which probably accounted for the first impression of him being thin. In addition, while his wheels were probably no taller than Edward's own Tarkin had them open on display, thus visually adding to their height. And his wheel arrangement was a rather unusual 2-8-4. Edward didn't even know the name for it!  


"I trust you've kept our little secrets?" Tarkin looked all too sternly at Krennic.  


"No. Edward now knows that you are Russian, I'm Australian, half of our shed is American and Thrawn might as well be an alien from a planet Csilla," Krennic winked at Edward. "I imagine that as a genuine Brit he is hiding his distaste as propriety demands till he gets to discuss it with other Brits?"  


"Of course," Edward tried to sound as loftily as he could manage. "It's not like you can appreciate such good old customs as 'make fun of foreigners'".  


"Of course not. Back in Russia foreigners make fun of you!" smirked Tarkin.  


"See? What's to discuss with such heathens!" Edward managed to keep his tone up the way to the end, but he just had to succumb to laughter directly afterwards.  


Krennic laughed too, and some of the humans, but Tarkin made no sound, although his smirk turned into a smile. This probably had more to do with the way he looked at Krennic laughing, given how intently Tarkin was looking the white engine over.  


The rest of the wash passed in comfortable silence and Edward was the first to go. Tarkin had, probably intentionally, blocked the road forward for Krennic and the white engine even seemed sorry about letting Edward go alone to the sheds. Although he could have backed and followed Edward, if there was an order that Edward is to be accompanied...  


"And now they would kiss," Rivoche broke into Edward's musings so suddenly that he almost braked to a stop.  


Garoshe had also been surprised, going by the way he gripped Edward's regulator.  


"Who would?" carefully asked Edward.  


"Tarkin and Krennic. The whity spend the whole day with you, Tarkin's got to wonder if he's been unfaithful," Rivoche sounded deadly serious. "Don't tell me you've noticed nothing unusual with their sleeping arrangements?  


"I don't engage in such activities myself and thus am not always noticing them," replied Edward. He could swear he heard some snickering from his cab.  


"Well, that explains it," after a while commented Rivoche, with the mirth still obvious in her voice. "I mean, it's an open secret that Tarkin is in love with Krennic, but Krennic is quite insufferable as he is, so Grandmoff is trying to be all covert about it".  


Edward could name a couple of other reasons for such behaviour, especially given that both engines were male-presenting and he didn't know just what the attitude of the local Controller was to this kind of thing, but something else had caught his attention.  


"Grandmoff?"  


"It's a family nickname for Tarkin," Rivoche sounded slightly evasive and almost defensive. "Some trucks overheard it and are using it to mock him whenever he is pulling goods trains, so he is not that fond of it now. But we are his crew, we can do it!"  


Edward imagined Tarkin with big wings akin to that of a moth and almost laughed outright. And if he could think of this, surely one of the trucks would have had the same association?  


"You won't call him that to his face?" asked Rivoche, still anxious. "He would know I've slipped on the clock..."  


"Of course not!" Edward replied.  


They stayed silent afterwards, Rivoche probably afraid to let something else slip, and Edward had a lot to think about.  


The oddities kept piling up and he was looking forward to going back home proper.

***

The sheds were half-full. There was Thrawn, his red eyes no less luminous in twilight, and two unknown engines: they stopped their conversation as soon as Edward came into view.  


"Good evening!" Edward called as the turntable was turning. "I'm Edward, but I think you already know that."  


"Yes, news travels fast. Especially when there is such a guest," answered one of the other engines, a charcoal-grey female one.  


"That's Pryce and Yularen further left," Thrawn introduced them.  


Edward smiled, waiting to be turned. Yularen was white then, like Krennic, although he looked smaller and had an honest to God mustache - just as white as his paintwork.  


Was this the local standard for mixed traffic engines? Surely the railway was more practical than that...  


"Nice to meet you," said Yularen once Edward backed up into his borrowed berth. Given that Thrawn hadn't said a word, it was still his to spend this night - hopefully, his last one away from Sodor.  


"Yes, nice to meet you too," answered Edward once it became obvious that Pryce was not one for sentiment.  


"How was your day? Did Krennic show you how we do things?" she asked instead, smirking in a way Edward would have considered plainly mocking him, if not for the previous conversation about Krennic's relationship with Tarkin.  


"Pretty normal, thanks. Your railway's efficiency is positively enviable," Edward decided to just ignore any kind of innuendo.  


"You've met us on a good day, but thank you regardless," answered Yularen, after exchanging a glance with both Pryce and Thrawn.  


Edward couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was being played, but was everyone on this railway in cahoots or was he just that desperate to get home? Wherever home was - at least here he's got a shed, a fact that was all the more important now that the night came.  


"Did you have any famous accidents?" he asked instead, feeling his temporary crew descend from his cab.  


They hadn't left, just walked forward to perch on some boxes left between the shed doors, so Edward assumed that there was a tradition of some evening storytime.  


"Please, Yularen, tell that one about the sand!" cried Rivoche, while Garoshe nodded most enthusiastically.  


"You do know this story better than us," Pryce joined them.  


Yularen sighed resignedly and started.  


"You've seen Vader, Edward? He left the sheds after me, so you might have. He is our main engine for heavy goods, although he can and does sometimes pull passenger trains. Mostly if Tarkin has some kind of accident, or there was once all this uproar when the public," he almost spat the word, despite the otherwise amiable tone, "finally realised that he came from Soviet Union and some all too vocal members of local government had taken offence. The Old Controller had him pull the goods train for a while, but…”  


"Sand, Yularen, sand! You can tell us all about Tarkin's problems another time," sing-songed Thrawn, obviously trying to get his fellow engine back on track.  


"Sorry, it's been a while since I've been asked to tell a story," Yularen's mustache moved in a way that suggested he was smiling. "So, Vader was always vocal about his hatred of sand. He used to work somewhere that was dealing in stuff, or there was an accident involving it - we never knew since he never said why. But in winter you have to use it on the steeper grades, unless you want to never make the climb. So as you can probably infer, we were rather looking forward to Vader's first winter here - back then that was myself, Tarkin, Krennic, although he was mostly running the docks, and Isard, who's still running the ISB branchline. Krennic and Isard were especially expectant, because Vader was better at goods than Krennic and respected only Tarkin for whatever reason, so Isard once had nearly been rammed and thus held a grudge."  


There was not a sound except for Yularen's voice and some seagulls crying overhead. Edward mused that being nearly taken off the rails was a good reason to be angry at someone, but there was no need to correct Yularen.  


"The Old Controller is always reminding us before the first frost of the season to stock up on sand," continued the mustached engine. "Imagine our surprise when Vader just agreed to that! We thought, to be honest, that he lied, and won't use the stuff, but the first day came and went, and there was no slippage whatsoever - and Vader was as smug as you can expect someone to be when they were better than everyone's expectations. Neither Krennic, nor Isard liked that, and I think Isard had his crew's families ghost Vader's crew so that he'd know if the ‘Spaceship’ is indeed using sand despite his hatred of it."  


Given the murmured agreement of Pryce and Thrawn, this was typical behavior for this Isard engine. Personally Edward thought this was wrong for a variety of reasons, but Yularen was already speaking again:  


"Now, Krennic has never been that particular about his humans - I think he pinned for some of his, Ersos or something like that, and heavily too, up until Tarkin finally cornered him and probably kissed some sense into him, - but since then Krennic is on surname basis with his crews. So he had no chance to sneak after Vader, and was plainly fuming. He fumed and complained hard enough that in three days of the first frost even Tarkin was sick of his voice. But then the warm days returned and everyone had sort of forgotten about that.  


"And then it froze overnight again. The Old Controller did warn us - he has a knack for it, better than the forecast! - but neither Krennic, nor Vader had been in the sheds when he came over, so I don't think they've had much notice. Krennic was pulling a fish train that night, and as a last minute precaution his crew had loaded his sandboxes with rock salt they've found in some crates.”  


"Found?" said sarcastically Rivoche, and some of the humans laughed.  


"Well, I suppose they knew whose crates those were, because when Vader struggled into docks with morning goods the rest of the rock salt was nowhere to be found. He was furious, but the rails were really slippery this time, with ice forming in many unusual places, so once his crew had realised that there was not enough salt left, they got a crate of sand onboard. Vader was not told, of course, so once Motti, who was the driver, I think, moved to pour the sand himself - the crew were conscious enough not to get it into sandboxes proper, - Vader stopped so suddenly Motti had fallen from his running plate rather hard. Vader refused to move while there was sand on him, and Motti broke his leg, so he had to be delivered to a hospital."  


"I've heard that he broke a spine?" Thrawn asked to clarify in such a tranquil tone, as if they were discussing weather.  


"Might have been just a concussion?" wondered Pryce. "Not that there was much to shake in that head of his."  


"It was serious enough that the fireman, Tagge, flagged down the Express. Tarkin wouldn't shut up about spineless crew members for a week at least, as if the war hasn't ended!" Yularen saw the unimpressed faces everyone made, and got back to the main story without any other prompting. "I finally got there when the bickering had given way to plain arguing and the only reason why Krennic was in one piece was that Vader wasn't going to move because there still was sand on him! That was why they waited for me: Krennic was too wary to try moving Vader himself. I swear, Vader was almost crying, because no one had even thought of sweeping away the sand until the Steamworks, not to mention that I was in front and pouring it liberally because of all the ice. Of course, once we've gotten to the Steamworks he was swept and washed, but everyone thought there was some mechanism breakdown, not just a mental one. You can imagine the sheer amount of mocking and concern once we realised that all this - a delay on the mainline and a crew member injured - was because an engine was afraid of sand!"  


"So what happened to Vader?" asked Edward. The engine obviously was left on the railway, but was there anything else? Should there be anything else - a human was wounded, after all!  


"Nothing much," Yularen's mustache moved as if he frowned. "He was left, brooding, in the steamworks for a month or so, while his driver was healing, and his fireman was being molded into better shape by Tarkin and his crew. No one was allowed to speak to him, but I am not certain this was what one could call a punishment."  


Pryce shuddered on her wheels, obviously disagreeing.  


"The Controller allowed Vader to use rock salt and even provided it from that moment forth, so I think he just had a holiday, basically. He did have his confrontation with Krennic, but that's a completely different story," finished Yularen, just as another engine arrived.  


"Oh, what did I miss?" he asked and Edward recognised the voice: Vanto.  


He turned out to be a similar model to Edward's own, a charcoal gray 4-4 with a tender, but his tall sandbox, funnel and a prominent lamp right above his face screamed American design. The only thing that was missing was a cow-catcher, but those were bound to be detachable anyway, right?  


"I'll tell you later," promised Thrawn with far more enthusiasm in his voice than ever before.  


Pryce snorted, but a quick glance in her direction gave no idea as to why.  


Vanto, strangely enough, stopped on a track that went around the shed. This was obviously unusual, if only because every engine and human looked at him doing that.  


"The Controller wanted to check on us," he explained, sagging down a bit. "Might be here soon enough. I've seen Vader at the Geonosis passenger platform."  


"Well, a warning is always appreciated," noted Pryce as her crew started to clean up herself and her berth.  


Yularen's did the same, under careful instructions of the engine, but neither Thrawn's, nor Edward's loaned ones did anything.  


"The Controller will surely understand if you are not perfect," commented Rivoche, although Edward had a feeling the girl was trying to convince herself.

***

Given that there was no way for Edward to do anything, he just spent the time looking at how others prepared. Yularen's crew was busy polishing him, while Pryce's seemed to bother more with cleaning up the shed from rubbish: the engine herself was almost unseen in the shadows and thus seemed perfectly clean.  


The view of other humans working was so engrossing, Edward noticed another couple of engines puffing up only when the turntable started to creak as it turned. On it was Krennic, cleaned and polished to perfection.  


"You should lay off coal sometimes. It never does that under anyone else," commented Yularen, pausing in his instructions.  


"You shouldn't hog all the oil that goes to the turntable maintenance, then it will not creak," answered Krennic, slightly pouting.  


Tarkin settled in next, in the rightmost berth. Despite him cutting a much more formidable figure than Krennic, the turntable indeed made no sound under him, and Krennic pouted even harder.  


"Rivoche! Garoshe! Why are you slacking off?" shouted someone from Tarkin's cab.  


"We are not! We have finished our work," replied Rivoche, glancing at Edward.  


"Then help Wilburn, while I check on our guests,'' the man replied. Judging by the sounds, since Tarkin's cab was obscured by Krennic, the man jumped down and headed towards the back end of the sheds. There must have been another exit there, for the humans?  


"Of course, granduncle Jova," the girl replied, as she and the boy went right to Tarkin.  


Neither he, nor Krennic had commented upon other engines cleaning, so this might have been usual to do. Not that Edward was against being presentable in front of a Controller, however Yularen's crew was now trying to comb the engine's mustache. The mustache seemed perfectly fine before their efforts, perhaps even better than now, but it's not like this was Edward's business, right?  


And then Edward heard two familiar voices, coming from the right.  


"Edward! Oh, thank God!"  


He turned his eyes and, surely enough, from behind smirking Tarkin came his very own crew, Sand and Heaver. Both looked as if they hadn't slept a wink since Edward saw them last, but otherwise seemed unharmed. Physically, at least.  


"Edward!" Heaver kept repeating, just trying to hug Edward's bufferbeam, while Sand jumped into the cab, obviously to check the interior.  


"We thought they hijacked you," whispered Heaver, now resolving to patting Edward's bufferbeam as if the man was afraid Edward would disappear in thin air. "We saw you leave in the morning, but no one told us why, or where, or even if they asked you..." the fireman was almost crying. Probably Heaver was just too tired, but now Edward had a nagging suspicion that for his crew the day on this island might have been much worse than his own.  


"He had my brother's grandchildren as crew," said another man, as if that were all the credentials a crew needed. Judging by the voice it was that Jova fellow, one of Tarkin's crew.  


Heaver stilled, as did Sand back in Edward’s cab.  


Edward lifted his eyes to see a bald old man, hunchbacked from age. He must have been a driver, for he surely couldn't heave coal! But his hands seemed steady and his pale eyes looked with nasty amusement at the way Edward's tired fireman clang to the engine. He also had a rather big knife on his belt, and Edward really didn’t want to think about the implications. If that was the highly praised crewmember of this railway, then Edward would rather stick with his own, thank you very much!  


"Were they adequate, Edward? You are a rather experienced engine, we would love to have your input," Jova continued, not really looking at Edward: his eyes still seemed glued to Heaver's back, as if he was a predator reptile, for he didn't even seem to blink.  


Edward looked around, trying to gather his thoughts back to today's performances and away from the fact that Sand seemed to curl silently in his cab. He noticed Garoshe peeking from Krennic's side of the rightmost berth. The temporary driver appeared pleading, but he made no sound, nor showed any sign as to what exactly he was asking Edward for.  


"Practically perfect, yes," he decided in the end, not willing to mention his earlier worries for the sake of his own crew. They definitely had enough on their plate as it is.  


"Good," nodded Jova and went back to his own engine.  


"Vader's coming!" interrupted Vanto.  


Edward caught his questioning glance, but could and would do nothing about Heaver: until the man was ready to stand again himself, Edward wouldn't ask him, unknown engines or their Controllers be damned.  


A chuffing sound did announce a steam engine approaching. Edward carefully looked, but since the night had already fallen and that Vader engine was black the only thing he could see were three red lamps, slowly moving forward towards the shed.  


"Do say nothing if you are not asked, Edward," whispered Krennic. "You are a good engine, just hold on for a bit longer and then you'll certainly get home," while the words seemed concerned, the tone was a bit too chill for any of this concern to be truly felt on Krennic's part.  


And then Vader was on the turntable and Edward couldn't answer. Not because of any warning, no: Vader plainly had no face! Before Edward could make a sound, a scream, most likely, the turntable lights had glinted off something on the front of Vader’s boiler and Edward realised that there was glass. Dark-coloured glass, likely dark-red… were those lenses for Vader’s eyes? Was there a mask, made surely out of the same metal as Vader himself, for Edward could see no other opening, not even a shimmer indicating where the mask ended and plain boiler started?  


Why would an engine be wearing such a thing? Was there an accident? Was it a production defect? Was this the punishment for...  


"Good evening, my engines and crews!" a rather pleasant male voice began and Edward realised that in his fixation on Vader's unusual appearance he managed to miss the fact that there was a human on Vader's left footplate. A rather rotund fellow with ginger hair: this must have been the Old Controller. "And good evening to our esteemed guests!" He sounded welcoming enough.  


"Good evening, sir!" replied everyone around Edward, human and engine alike, with the obvious exception of Heaver, who was just turning to face the Controller, and Sand, who was still in Edward's cab, now just holding his regulator. At least the driver was fine enough to stand again...  


"I am quite pleased to note that a number of you had informed me about our newcomers personally or via your crews. And despite a new engine today's work was rather exceptional. All of you have done your duties on time, and none had any accidents."  


Edward almost opened his mouth to correct the Controller, for he wasn't a new engine, but he remembered Krennic's warning just in time.  


"Moreover, Lord Vader and I had managed to locate just the line that brought Edward here. You know what that means?"  


"Yes!" replied the local engines with a different amount of enthusiasm: Tarkin, Krennic and Pryce seemed to drown out Thrawn, Vanto and Yularen.  


"So what do you want to do tonight?" asked the Controller with such a malevolent smirk that Edward was able to see it despite the darkness.  


"Try to take over the world!" cried the engines around Edward, as he and his crew shook in terror.

**Author's Note:**

> I am firmly believing in a) engines can kiss and have sexualities, b) they somehow figure out other engines' gender just by looking and c) if a canon can 'forget' that different counties use different gauges for their railways I can do the same (looking at Ivan and his sudden appearance in Britain of all the places).  
> If anyone is interested in how IS looks like, the Russian wiki has a nice picture of a non-streamlined one: https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%98%D0%A1_(%D0%BF%D0%B0%D1%80%D0%BE%D0%B2%D0%BE%D0%B7)#/media/%D0%A4%D0%B0%D0%B9%D0%BB:Lokomotiva_v_Kyjev%C4%9B.jpg. Funny fact of the day: while originally the series was named after Joseph Stalin, later on it was renamed because even Soviet Union was not always fond of Stalin and IS became FDP (Felix Dzerzhinsky-passenger, akin to its sister series of goods engines, which was named after Felix Dzerzhinsky). However, Tarkin doesn't strike me as a goods type engine, so hence the typing and some hints at renaming (he probably had just a number back in Soviet Union and that's why he is not admitting this to Krennic).  
> The rest haven't actually gotten a solid enginesonas, but Vader is based on BR Standard Class 9F, which apparently were even called Spaceships, so I just had to nickname him that.  
> Also, the whole thing was written almost for the last line, but it seemed crackier in Russian.  
> Comments are welcome!


End file.
